


Baker Guide You

by DovaBunny, protect-him (protect_him)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery & Coffee Shop AU, Disabled Character, Fenders, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny/pseuds/DovaBunny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/protect_him/pseuds/protect-him
Summary: Anders is a blind baker at the infamous little 'Baker Guide You' bakery and coffee shop. Except for his coworkers, Alistair and Zevran, Anders lives a lonely life, till one day his paths cross with a stranger with warm hands and the scent of pine and apples.Eyes can't see tattoos, white hair, scars, or pointed ears, but hands can caress and learn, lips can taste, ears can listen, and hearts can learn to love, guiding the way.





	1. What the Storm Blew In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a little drabble DovaBunny wrote on Tumblr, and Protect-Him ran with. From there we emailed back and forth and developed the idea of a blind baker Anders and shy Fenris who likes the man that treats him well because he cant see him.

 

Anders loved rainy days.

The gentle patter of raindrops on the windows was almost melodious, the soft splashing of footsteps as pedestrians walked through puddles and chatted merrily, the rolling of thunder in the distance over the waters at the docks. Kirkwall might be a bit of a shithole, but at least the bakery was in a nice spot of town.

The door’s bell chimed, the soft ‘flop’ of dough into flour, then a smooth voice asking: “Good Afternoon! And what can we get the beautiful lady today?”

Anders smirked as he listened to the feminine voice that answered.

“Sounds like your girlfriend is here again, Alistair,” he teased and flopped the dough again to continue kneading it.

There’s a sputtering sound, a clang of a metal bowl, then a ‘Maker dammit!’. He was about to sweetly reprimand his colleague for wasting a good batch of icing when Zevran swooped in.

“Oh Ali-dear!” He cooed soft enough so the customer out front couldn’t hear. “The fair lady in the front has asked for one of your delicious caramel-fudge cupcakes.”

“Wha-, bu-,” he heard Alistair stutter and had to bite his lip to hold back a chuckle. “There’s the fresh batch right there! Just take her one.” Alistair cleared his throat then added. “Did she, uh, say anything? You know, about me?”

“Only that these were the best cupcakes in all of Kirkwall,” Zev purred. “And I would bring her one, but as you can see,” there was a shuffling of tin pans, “my hands are currently full! So it seems you’ll just have to take it to her.”

Anders laughed to himself as he listened to the ever-a-wingman Zev talking a flustered Alistair into taking his crush a cupcake and pep-talking him through what to say. Zev and Alistair were his right and left hands, have been ever since he had the bakery. Alistair wasn’t the most confident with the customers, but was a surprisingly brilliant baker, baking gorgeous and delicious tarts, cakes, cupcakes, and pastries. Zevran was a hit with any customer and effective businessman, handling the store’s finances in his stride.

Anders? Well Anders baked the bread. His bread-baking skills is what got the place it’s reputation after all, and also happened to be a favourite activity of his. Working with his hands, going on taste, feel, and smell to guide him - it was his happy place, and something he was very good at. Which was handy, because, well, Anders was blind.

Speaking of, Anders was suddenly startled by a loud smooch on his cheek.

“My dear Anders,” Zevran said, the rustling of his jacket could be heard. “I apologise for abandoning the sinking ship that is ‘Alistair trying to talk to a girl he fancies’, but sadly I must depart for the day.”

Anders just laughed and shook his head. “Fine fine, go. Leave me with blubbering teddy bear. I’ll see you tomorrow Zev.”

Ander vaguely waved over his shoulder in the direction of Zevran. The sound of another loud wet smooch followed soon after, then a cursing and sputtering Alistair scolding Zevran who just laughed as he left. The sound of pouring rain and rolling thunder louder for a moment as Zev opened and closed the back door..

“You know Alistair,” Anders tried in a kinder tone, less teasing than Zev’s. “You really do need to learn how to talk to her at some point. Maybe ask her out on a date? The worst she can say is no. Not that she will.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who has sworn off love altogether,” Alistair mumbled.

“That’s different, that was a choice.”

“A stupid one.”

“Your face is stupid.”

“Real mature boss.”

Anders chuckled. “Thank you, I do try.” His tone then turned somber. “At least I’ve tried before. You know, the whole better having loved and lost than never having loved at all – that Hallmark card crap. You need to at least try?”

Alistair sighed. “You’re right. It’s just, everytime I see her pretty face I just-”

_“Dling!”_

Before he could continue, the front door’s bell rang.

Anders wiped his hands on his apron and made his way to the till. He knew the bakery’s every nook and cranny by heart, so getting around here was never an issue.

“Hello!” He smiled as he emerged from the kitchen to stand behind the counter. “Welcome to Baker Guide You. How can I help you today?”

Silence.

Anders was sure he heard the bell ring. He tilted his head, a confused expression on his face, then he heard the soft taps of water drops on the floor. Whoever it was must’ve come in from the rain, maybe seeking shelter?

“Hello?”

A quiet shuffle of feet on the tiles at the door confirmed that there was in fact someone standing there. Anders put on his warmest smile.

“Coming in to escape the rain? Don’t blame you, it’s pouring out there. You’re welcome to just sit and wait it out, we’re not closing for a while.”

More silence.

“You know, I bet a hot chocolate and a warm apple strudel will help chase off the cold!” Anders heard the feet shuffle again, he smiled that his words finally got a reaction. “Sound good? You can hang your coat up on the hook by the door then come in and warm yourself up.”

There was a long pause, then Anders heard material rustle and the old coat hanger squeaked under the added weight. Hands soothed over the item and more drops fell softly to the floor.

Feet approached the counter, slowly and cautiously, like they were prepared to turn and run into the storm at any moment.

Anders smiled in the direction of the oncoming customer. “Ringing up one hot chocolate and one of our famous apple strudels,” he put in the order, fingers dancing over the touch screen he had memorized. “Now, if you could just follow the instructions and put the money into the machine on the other side of the till, I’ll get your order ready!”

It had been a gift from his neighbor Blackwall who owned the woodwork shop next-door. He had a soft spot for the disabled, and had the till made especially for Anders. One side for ringing up orders with a large touch screen, the other side facing the customer with slots for bills and coins. He got it all from bits of old vending machines he took apart.

Anders turned towards the large barista machine to start on the hot chocolate. He made sure to add extra chocolate chips and cream, but then realized he hadn’t heard the _ching_ of the till confirming payment yet.

He turned and put the mug down on the counter. Maybe the person was still figuring it out? He got a plate, slid open the hot treats window and took out a strudel to put on a plate. Still silence.

“Having some trouble with the machine?” He asked as he put the plate next to the mug.

Suddenly Anders’ hand was stuffed with notes and coins as the person all but shoved the money into his palm.

Anders quirked an eyebrow at the strange behavior but laughed. “Erhm, thank you, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed – I’m blind. The self-payment option on the machine is there because I can’t see.”

An uncomfortable shuffle of feet followed. Anders felt hesitant fingertips slowly reaching into his hand to take the money again.

“You know what? You’re obviously a first-time customer, let me show you how it’s done.”

Anders closed his hand, the brush of warm fingers sent tendrils of electricity through his arm. His feet nearly faltered, but he shook the thought off, blaming it on his heightened sense of touch and how long it had been since he’d touched another’s hand.

_Damn you’re lonely._

He easily made his way around the counter to stand before the back of the till. He sensed the person next to him, heard feet move to give him room.

“Okay, so the little screen shows the amount owed,” he touched it lightly. “This is the slot for notes, and this is the one for coins. Over here is where your change will pop out. So, a hot chocolate and strudel, that’ll be 11. So let’s just pop a note in here…”

The machine changed and two coins dropped into the change tray.

“There you go!” Anders collected the change with the other money and turned to hand it back.

The stranger must’ve been watching closely over his shoulder, because as he suddenly turned he felt the brush of a scarf and caught a scent… A beautiful, wonderful scent.

Anders stood frozen. It was vaguely familiar, fresh pine and apples and something masculine, but Anders was sure he knew no one who smelled so amazing.

He must’ve been staring in the direction of the stranger, as feet shuffled awkwardly, then a hand gently touched his, prompting him to drop the money into the waiting hand.

Anders felt something he hadn’t felt in years – butterflies.

He felt heat rise to his cheeks and scolded himself for his foolish behavior, blushing over a silent mysterious stranger with warm hands and a beautiful scent.

He stuffed his suddenly clammy hands into his apron. “I err, I’ll just get a tray for your o-order.” He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to smile through the heat in his cheeks and ears. As he made his way back behind the counter he did another thing he hadn’t done in years – he bumped into the countertop.

“Heh, that err, that came out of nowhere…” he tried to laugh off, then cleared his throat as he hurried to place the plate of warm apple strudel with a fork and the hot mug on a tray, pushing it over towards the stranger.

“You can sit at any of the tables, sounds like they’re all open.” Anders smiled shyly. “Enjoy!”

He heard the tray picked up and feet lead to one of the tables in the window. Anders spun on his heels and high tailed into the kitchen before he did something stupid.

Once in the kitchen he slammed his back into wall just around the corner, groaning as he hid his face.

“That was embarrassing… Even for me!” Alistair said with a smirk in his voice.

“Shut.up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think so far? We'd be super happy to hear your thoughts, suggestions, and ideas! 
> 
> We're writing this 2 chapters in advance, so the next chapter posting isn't far off ;) Hope you guys will come to love this story as much as we do.


	2. The Visitor

“I didn't imagine it did I?” Anders asked Alistair the next afternoon. He pounded the dough, listening to the familiar sounds of Alistair and Zevran working around him. “A person came in and didn't speak, not even a peep. He smelled…” Anders flipped the dough and punched it again. “Or I think it was a  _ he _ . He smelled like autumn. Pine and apples…” 

Anders’ voice stopped as he realized that he was babbling, and quite wistfully too, about someone he might have imagined.

“There  _ was  _ a person,” Alistair confirmed, laughing softly. It was rare enough that he was the one between the three of them to have a secret. “And it was a man. These are all facts. As is that Anders was more than a little flustered by him.”

“He wouldn't talk!” Anders protested. His hands remembered the warmth of the touch when their fingers had brushed. He absently ran his thumb over his fingerprints at the memory. 

Since losing his sight he’s never had an experience like this. He had given up falling in love again, there would be no ‘eyes meeting across the room’, or ‘smiling at a pretty girl’ for him. So when his other senses, touch and smell, caused his heart to leap like this - it was something he was wholly unaccustomed to, yet he yearned for it so deeply - to feel so alive again.

Zevran groaned dramatically. “How could I have missed such a moment! Anders, the sputtering school boy, finding love anew!” Anders could  _ feel _ Zevran draping himself over the counter, clutching his chest like a maiden in distress.

“Oh, you’re full of it,” Anders scoffed, but the slight colour in his cheeks made Zevran lift an eyebrow. Alistair and he shared a mischievous look. Anders hummed, oblivious to their conspiratorial glances.

Anders was more than happy to work in the kitchen all afternoon. He enjoyed the familiar and comforting sounds of Alistair baking and icing, and Zevran chatting with customers and cleaning dishes. The bakery was filled with the beautiful smells of fresh bread, warm cupcakes, and sweet vanilla. He felt truly happy, and of course it had nothing to do with the mysterious stranger from the day before.

He heard shuffling feet as both Alistair and Zevran hurried into the kitchen together, giggling. Anders had just set aside a loaf of bread ready to bake. He tapped the small timer that sat next to the area where he put his bread to rise, so one of the others would put it in the oven once it had risen enough.

“Anders, it’s for you,” Alistair said, his voice tight with the strain of keeping a straight face. 

“That’s him?” Zevran whispered. “ _ Dios mio _ !”

Anders didn’t miss the hint of sincerity in Zevran’s voice; it wasn’t his usual controlled leer and joking. 

“What? What is it Zevran?”

“It’s… nothing. It’s nothing my dear Anders.” There was something there, but Anders was far too distracted to investigate that right now. He felt Zev tug gently at his his sleeve. “Go on then mi amigo, carpe diem!”

“This isn’t fair,” Anders said, making sure not to speak so loudly that the customer would hear. “I’m not supposed to be serving customers. I only do it if we’re busy.”

“You make me attend to Surana when she comes,” Alistair said matter-of-factly. “It’s only fair you attend to your mystery man.”

Anders started wiping his hands on his apron, then paused, the giddy smile of anticipation dropping from his face.  _ What am I doing? _ There was a reason he didn’t indulge in these fantasies. They kept his thoughts occupied, which was fine, as long as he realised they were just that - fantasies - and nothing more. He felt foolish.

Anders sighed and turned back to his work, reaching for the flour. “I’m sure he would prefer either of you to me.”

Anders couldn’t see the sad looks Alistair and Zevran exchanged. 

“Tell you what boss,” Alistair said. “If you go out there now, I promise to not only help Surana next time she pops in - but talk to her too.”

“Perfecto!” Zev laughed. “Andy, my friend, not even you can turn down a deal that good, si?”

Anders chuckled and shook his head. His friends meant well. He knew there was a reason he kept them around.

“Fine fine,” he sighed to cheers. “I’ll go out there, embarrass myself, and then I will immediately call Surana to tell her it’s ‘Free Cupcake Friday!’ if she comes over right away!”

Anders smiled as he heard Alistair’s whimpers. He walked out to the counter to meet the stranger. 

“Hello! Welcome to Baker Guide You, what can I do you for?”

The familiar silence that answered, save for the quiet, awkward shuffle of feet, brought a smile to his face. 

“Hello? Anyone there?”

He wasn’t above playing the ‘blind card’ to get a reaction out of the stranger that had occupied his thoughts so. The silence remained. 

“Hm, guess not,” he frowned and turned to leave, smirking at the three rushed steps that followed and hands touching the counter. 

Anders caught the scent of the man and couldn’t help but smile. Apples and pine...beautiful. 

He turned back to the counter with that smile. “You wouldn’t perhaps be the stranger from the storm? Yes?”

Nails scratched softly at the edge of the counter and feet shuffled uncertainly. 

His smile broadened. “I’ll take that as a yes. Alright, unless you stop me I’m just going to ring up a hot chocolate and apple strudel again. Going once, going twice,” the ping of the machine followed as he hit the order button with flourish, “sold!”

Was his ears deceiving him or did he just hear an amused huff?

“Will you be okay putting the money in the machine, or do you need me to help?”

There was a rustling of clothes, the clink of coins, then a note and two pennies pushed into his hands. Fingertips brushed his open palm, just for a moment, and Anders felt his chest do a flip. 

It was silly, so stupid actually, that a simple touch could exact such a reaction from him. The scent that calmed and attracted him, the steady silence, the shy shuffle of feet, then the warm touch of fingertips to confirm that this was all real. 

Anders quickly swallowed. It was just because it had been so long since another person had touched him. In fact, besides his mystery man, he couldn’t even remember the last time. Probably Zevran brushing him in passing, or a slap on the back from Alistair. 

“I’ll ring it in and bring your order with your change in a sec. Why not take a seat? I’ve been told the one in the corner has a nice view of the docks - so I know where to find you,” he chuckled. 

Anders heard the soft footsteps walk to the table he suggested. He moved around the machine to slot in the money and collect the change, putting it on a tray. While working on the hot chocolate he heard Alistair whisper from the back: “you’re doing great boss!”

“Shoo! You’ll scare him off,” he laughed softly. 

Strudel, hot chocolate, and change in tray, he set off for the table, dodging every table and chair with practised ease. He knew Zevran made sure to keep each in its place after customers left for this purpose. 

“Here we are,” Anders set the tray down and moved the contents to the table. Bending down to pull the cup with packets of sugar closer, he felt something soft brush against his cheek, the scent of the man filled his senses - it was his hair. 

Anders quickly pulled himself upright, resisting the urge to hide his heated cheeks behind his tray or brush his hand over his cheeks where the softest hair had just caressed. 

“I- ah, sorry… about that. Ahem. There in the cup is sugar.” He cleared his throat, fingers fidgeted with the corners of the tray. “If- If you need anything, just, err… Tap on the counter? Or wave down Zevran or Alistair. They’re the other two that work here. Okay I’ll just leave you to it then.”

Anders turned around- and walked right into a table. He tried to compensate for the hard blow to his stomach by sidestepping, only to crash over a chair, the clang and scrape harsh in the little quiet bakery. 

He heard another sudden scrape of a chair behind him, but held up his hand - “I’m okay! Just… just wounded my pride, is all.” He laughed at his own embarrassment. “Maker’s tits, I could’ve sworn that table wasn’t there just now…”

He quickly pulled himself up and straightened the chair, only to hear a muffled laugh coming from the stranger. The sound not unlike someone laughing into their sleeve to muffle the sound. 

“Oh yeah, fine,” he laughed too, blushing profusely. “Giggle at the blind guy, why don’t you? Andraste’s knickerweasels, I swear this never happens.”

The muffled chuckling died down, then the footsteps came closer. Anders paused. 

Gently, cautiously, a hand reached and took his, placing it on a sleeve-covered arm. The hand was slim and the touch warm, and Anders felt his gut flip again. 

The stranger started moving, and Anders took the hint, letting the man lead him through the maze of tables back to the counter. 

When he opened his mouth again it was blushing stammers that came pouring out: “I-err, thank you, stranger, heh. I-ah, appreciate your assistance. I should-ah, probably get back to the kitchen now. You know, breads don’t make themselves! Heh, ahem. Just- just tap if you need me.”

With that he all but fled into the back, collapsing face first with a groan into onto the counter. 

“Be honest with me - out of 10, how bad was it?”

“That would be a 6 for execution, but a solid 10 for adorableness!” Zevran said with a fond smile in his voice.

“I think it went really well boss!” Alistair added.

“Alistair, I love you, but that coming from you isn’t very comforting.” Anders teased. “Now Zevran, be a dear and give the lovely Surana a ring? I do believe there is a special on cupcakes today she wouldn’t want to miss out on!” 

 

________________________________

 

“Hello sweet thing! I was wondering where you wer-” Isabela paused and lifted an eyebrow. “Is that- an actual  _ smile _ I see on those pretty lips? Maker’s salty sack, I didn’t know they could do that!”

Fenris rolled his eyes at her as he put down his backpack behind the counter. The quirk at the corners of his lips, however, were hard to wipe off. 

“Yes, it is only one of a whole array of facial expressions I share with others. Would you like to see my ‘annoyed’ face? I have also been lead to believe to do a fairly good ‘unimpressed’ face.”

Isabela laughed as put the last of the mix of CDs into the ‘reshelf’ box. “Oh Fenny bear, I like you. I think I’ll keep you around! As long as I get to see that sexy smirk more often.” She handed him the box with a wink, then asked more honestly: “You still have your card I made?”

“Don’t call me ‘Fenny bear’,” he scowled at her as he took it. “And yes, thank you.”

Fenris pulled out the little card in his back pocket with the alphabet neatly written on it. He walked over to his counter in the back of the record store from where he did all the organising, reshelving, and cleaning. It was also far away from the front door, which he preferred. 

As Fenris sorted the CD’s in the box into alphabetical order, glancing at the card every now and then to match the letters to the order, he thought of the handsome, blond baker. He couldn’t help the small smile that spread on his lips as he thought of the the man’s kind smile and sweet blush, of a soft warm hand on his arm as he gently guided him through the tables. 

Fenris wasn’t used to people treating him kindly. Fenris was used to strange looks, open disgust, people crossing the street to walk on the other side, averting their eyes, shielding their children from him… When he had burst into the door to get out of the rain, he had expected to be told to pay or get out, or maybe even just to get out lest he scare off the customers. But then  _ he  _ appeared, and he smiled and welcomed him. 

The man was friendly, warm, goofy, and kind. He was also very silly and made Fenris smile just thinking of him. After leaving the bakery the first time, he already couldn’t wait to go again. Just the way this man made Fenris feel, bringing him his favourite sweet, apple strudels, and helping him with the change without batting an eye once. He didn’t judge Fenris for not being able to read, he didn’t comment about the water he was dripping on the floor, no - he smiled, smelled of bread, and welcomed him.  

Was it too much to ask to be made to feel this way? Like he mattered, like he was normal somehow?

Was it too much to ask that the baker’s blind eyes never see him?

Fenris looked up and caught his own reflection in the glass over a framed record on the wall. A face marred by unwanted tattoos and scars of a lifetime of fighting, hair stark white, green eyes too big and lost, and the tip of one pointed ear torn off. 

Was it too much to ask that the baker never knew what he truly was - an ugly, broken monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protect-Him and I (DovaBunny) absolutely LOVED reading your comments! We are very excited about this journey with you, and hope you are too. I apologise if the updates are a bit slow, we're both working people and writing together does take some time. I appreciate your support and patience more than I can possibly say <3


	3. The Hero

The stranger hadn’t been by in a few days, and Anders was, in a way, grateful. It was disorienting to be stumbling around and running into things where he usually could get around without a problem.

“Wicked Grace tonight?” Alistair asked him from where he was standing next to Anders, frosting a batch of cupcakes. Anders’ nose told him: vanilla cupcakes with rosewater and lime icing. 

“Definitely,” Anders replied. “I would hate to miss it. Besides, Isabela would have my hide if I don’t show.”

The smile he wore when he said that didn’t last that long after he arrived at the Hanged Man though. 

“Would you like to hold my arm too Anders dearest?” Zevran wouldn't stop teasing him, guiding him through the tables even though he didn't need it, with a snickering Alistair in tow. The Antivan just couldn’t wait to be the one to share the hottest gossip of the week: Anders had a crush! Anders just blushed and scowled, stomping over to his usual seat.

“They're exaggerating,” he insisted. “The man has only been there twice. Also, I just happened to run into the table because I was disoriented, I don't usually serve customers, you know. Shame on you all for laughing at the blind man.”

“It's okay,” Isabela said, giving him a playful bump on the shoulder, making Anders jump a little. “You can have a little crush. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks Bela, I really appreciate the support,” he said with an earnest sigh of relief. 

“You’re welcome sugar. But you can thank me by taking the mystery muffin to Bone Town over that big counter in the kitchen.”

“Of course. It’s always about the fine print with you. Anders rolled his eyes. 

“Where’s Bone Town?” Merrill’s cheerful voice piped up. “Is it in the Western Approach?”

“More like the ‘Southern’ Approach,” Hawke entered the conversation with that giddy pitch she uses when she thinks he’s being hilarious. “Get it? Like, Anders will ‘approach’ his ‘Southern’? Shut up I’m funny.”

“Anyway, how's the record store?” Anders asked, eager to change the subject.

“Swimmingly, as usual,” Isabela said.

“How's the newbie?” Marian asked. 

“New guy is getting along well enough,” Isabela said. “He's shy, prefers the cleaning and organising. While, as you all know, I have a stunning personality, and the face and boobs combo that just screams ‘buy your CD’s’, so I’m better suited for dealing with customers. My skills would be wasted if I had to pick up a broom or put a CD back. So we're a great team!”

“Hold up! I’m not ready to move on yet,” Varric interjected. “Andy, tell us of your first meeting?” Anders heard a pen scribbling on paper. 

“I would hardly call it a meeting,” Anders said with a long suffering sigh. Why couldn’t they just talk about, oh I don’t know, ANYTHING else? “It was just Alistair and I in the bakery. It was raining cats and dogs outside, but then I heard the front door bell so I went out to the register. Only, when I got there, whoever it was dripping all over the floor refused to speak. I assumed - what I later learned as a he - was getting out of the rain, so I ordered for him. I also had to show him how to work the customer side of the register.”

“I missed all of this,” Zevran interrupted. Anders could almost hear the Antivan pout. “Alistair only reported that Anders was very flustered and blushing like a chantry sister at the Rose.”

“Who wouldn’t be,” Anders blustered, “when your customer won’t talk and you can’t even  _ see _ them? I could barely hear his feet to figure out where he was.” He then added wistfully: “and he smelled so damn good too.”

Bethany leaned closer to Anders.

“That's so cute and exciting,” she said. “A silent mysterious stranger! What else did you notice about him. Did he say anything?”

“That is the whole point,” Zevran said gleefully. “He says nothing, but by fleeting touch and scent alone our dear Anders is a smitten kitten.”

Anders could hear the scratching of Varric’s pen.

“This is not novel material!” Anders said, turning back to him. “And there are no smitten kittens!” Then he felt a hand on his other shoulder.

“We're just happy for you,” Isabela said. She patted his shoulder then shifted back into her seat. Her voice had it’s usual teasing lit, but her touch was sincere and thoughtful. 

“Why are we happy?” Merrill’s birdlike voice piped up from the opposite corner in curiosity.

“Lots of reasons, Daisy,” Varric replied. “Anders had a crush, the record store has a new employee who hasn’t tried to sleep with Isabela after a whole month of working with her, I've ordered appetizers for the table…”

“It’s not a crush,” Anders mumbled, blushing when he realized that it kind of was.

Finally Anders heard the familiar whirr of cards being shuffled and breathed a sigh of relief. Now at least conversation would move away from him. The cards were dealt and he felt Isabela slide an arm through his as she leaned closer to consult him about the cards in their hand.

“Teaming up with Izzy again?” Hawke asked Anders. He nodded.

“We do well together.”

He felt Isabela throw her weight against him, though not so hard as to knock him over.

“We win together,” she said, and Anders could hear the triumphant smile in her voice.

“Why didn’t you bring the new guy along?” Varric asked.

“He’s  _ so shy _ ,” she said, “I asked and he was polite about saying no. But -” She paused, and Anders heard her taking a drink. “He’s been smiling more! Or...scowling less. I honestly can’t tell. We picked up quite the ray of sunshine with that one.” Her hair brushed against Anders’ shoulder as she tossed her head, pulling her arm back and shifting back into her seat. There was a smattering of laughter around the table and Varric urged Isabela to try to convince her co-worker to join them sometime as the cards were dealt.

Despite how awkward (well, awkward for Anders) the night began, it was a perfect Wicked Grace night in the end. Zevran flirted the barmaid into a round on the house, Isabela sang a song about a drunken pirate only for a very drunken Hawke to take over full of confidence, and Merrill kept forgetting which drink was hers and ended up finishing every one on the table’s drinks for them. Varric tease and laughed, Aveline groaned sighed, Alistair joked and cheered, all the while Anders and Isabela cheated everyone out of their coin. A good night indeed. 

 

Several days had passed, but Alistair and Zevran were still bemoaning their losses.

“Losing aside,” Alistair said above the familiar sound of the cupcake tins clattering against the countertop. “That was one of the best nights we’ve had in a long while.”

“Our dear Anders was so bright red,” Zevran added with a laugh. “He really is smitten.”

“Am not,” Anders argued through a smile he tried to hide. 

The card game really had been fun. He and Isabela had their little signals worked out almost perfectly now so that Isabela wouldn’t have to actually tell him the cards in their hand. Some of it was touch and some was sound, Anders’ hands sensitive to pick up the slight differences in the cards as he shuffled and dealt the pack. No one else seemed to have picked up on it.

The bell rang as another customer came in, and Zevran went to tend the counter. He came running back almost immediately.

“Anders,” Zevran called gleefully. “It’s for you!”

Anders sighed, probably another kitchenware salesman, but brushed the flour from his hands and went towards the front. His mind, however, was not on various brands of mixing bowls, but still on his mysterious silent stranger.It was no use trying to fight both Zevran and Alistair, to try and convince them he wasn’t smitten. Okay, maybe a little daydreamy, but that was all.

“Hello?” He turned his head, trying to listen for any sound. It was so disorienting not to be able to see or hear, but to know someone was there. He heard a soft scuff of feet and the jingle of a coin purse.

“Oh, it’s you again, hi!” Anders said, smiling bashfully. “How are you today?”

Maker-dammit, he should’ve known by Zevran’s voice that is was  _ him _ and not some salesman.

The familiar silence followed. “Still silent I see,” he smiled kindly anyway. A voice - to hear his voice, was it too much to ask? “Hot chocolate and apple strudel, coming right up.” He rang in the order and heard the whirr as the machine took the man’s change. Anders tore off the man’s receipt and held it a moment longer than usual. He could almost feel the man hesitate, waiting for Anders to pass it to him.

“Is there a name I can call when your order is ready?” Anders asked hopefully, holding out the receipt. 

The paper slid from between his fingers as the stranger accepted it. The pause after Anders’ question was so long, he was about to assume that the man still wouldn’t speak. Anders’ shoulders slumped as he let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding in anticipation, when-

“Fenris.”

Anders’ heart leapt.

“Fenris,” he repeated, almost reverently, then smiled. He felt goofy, but he didn’t care. He knew the man’s name, and it was as lovely and mysterious as the man’s scent and presence.  _ Fenris _ .

Anders was proud to navigate his way to where the man sat, this time without any embarrassing fumbling around and running into tables, able to find him through listening as he idly tapped on the tabletop.

“Here you go, Fenris,” Anders said, heart fluttering in saying the man’s name. “I, err, added a slice of fresh bread with some homemade butter. Just came out of the oven. On the house.” 

As Anders walked away, he heard the light scrape of the bread crust on the plate, the crunch of a bite, then a soft, barely-audible hum of pleasure. 

Anders couldn’t stop the smile on his face for the rest of that day even if Andraste commanded it. 

 

Fenris came again the next week, and the week after. The week after that, he visited the bakery twice. Each time, Alistair or Zevran would insist that Anders take the man’s order, not that Anders minded. 

Anders had stopped resisting entirely in fact, though some days it was busy when the man arrived, and he ended up serving multiple customers. Most knew how the unique register worked, but a few times Anders still had to explain it. He felt self-conscious, knowing that Fenris was in the bakery, and was possibly watching him (or at least he stupidly hoped he was). Anders was glad he never made quite as many clumsy mistakes as he had the first few times Fenris had come.

Fenris was stopping by twice a week now, and although Anders had gotten nothing more than a name from the man, he was looking forward to each visit like a kid awaiting Santa’s visit.

Another week passed. It was a wet day but the kitchen was warm and familiar against the background sounds of rain through the open back door to the kitchen. Zevran and Alistair were quiet today, and Anders was far from his usual cheerful self. 

It was his own clumsy fault, but he loved the smell of rain, just as he loved the smell of bread. He’d opened the door on his little balcony above the bakery to let in the cool air, and hadn’t felt to make sure that the screen door was closed as well. He felt a brush of fur past his legs and then heard a thump as Pounce jumped from the balcony down to the street. Anders tried to run after his cat and call him back, but being blind, it was a hopeless endeavor. 

Once or twice he thought he heard the jingle of the bell on Pounce’s collar somewhere down the street and dashed out the back door, only to be halted by Alistair or Zevran confirming it was nothing, and guided him as he trudged sadly back into the bakery. He only had half an hour before he opened, and there wasn’t time to go blindly chasing a cat through the rain.

Zevran and Alistair had tried to help when they had arrived, but Pounce was nowhere to be seen by then. After promising to help find Pounce after closing time, the pair helped Anders open shop for the day. If Anders was working a little slower than usual, neither of them was going to say anything. Zevran made Anders his favorite coffee and Alistair offered him a cupcake.

“I messed up the frosting,” he said, “someone needs to eat it, and I can only eat so many.”

Anders thanked his friends, he was lucky to have them, but he didn’t feel much better.

“Andy, maybe this will cheer you up,” Alistair said. “It’s him.”

The lunch crowd had filtered out, and the bakery was quiet with a small steady stream of customers coming in for a warm drink or pastry out of the rain. Anders turned towards Alistair as the other man took his arm and steered him towards the register.

“I don’t think I can today,” Anders said, trying weakly to resist for the first time in weeks.

“He’s happy to see you,” Alistair whispered as they went through the door. “Go on.”

Anders offered a weak smile.

“Hello, it’s Fenris right?” He started punching in Fenris’ order. Fenris made a small noise of assent, Anders could imagine that the man was nodding. “I’ll order the usual and have it right out for you. Take a seat if you’d like.”

Alistair was beside him moments later with the mug of hot chocolate. He must have started it even before Anders said anything to Fenris.

“He’s in the corner by the window,” Alistair whispered, and Anders nodded gratefully. Anytime he didn’t have to try to play listening games with customers to find where they were sitting made his day just that much easier. Anders navigated towards the corner, feeling with one hand for the table and setting the hot chocolate down in front of Fenris.

“Your strudel will be out in a minute,” he said, turning to go back to the register when he felt a warm hand on his wrist. He turned back, confused, and a little startled by the pleasant tingling of the warm touch.

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked. His voice was delicious, rich and deep like maple syrup, but laced with concern. Anders wanted to record it and replay that simple question over again later. He wanted to wrap himself in that voice like a soft, warm blanket to find the comfort he so badly needed today.

“M-my cat,” Anders stammered, taken by surprise. “Pounce. He ran off this morning. I’m worried about what could happen to him.”

The hand slid away from Anders’ wrist, and it was all he could do not to reach after it. “I’m sorry,” Fenris said quietly.

“Thanks,” Anders replied, then realized he was standing still too long, and he was only guessing at where Fenris’ face was, so he was in all likelihood gazing at his shoulder or at the floor, or at someone’s shoe. He shook himself, smiled as kindly as he could, and retreated quickly back to the kitchen.

“What did he say to you?” Zevran asked eagerly as soon as Anders set foot into the kitchen.

“I told him about Pounce,” Anders said.

“The cat?” Alistair asked, incredulous. “You finally talk to him, and it’s about your  _ cat _ ?”

Anders shrugged, going back to his half-finished dough.

“The strudel,” Zevran said.

“Can you take it, please?” Anders asked, weary enough that even Zevran didn’t push him to go. A minute later, he was next to Anders, pulling a tray from the oven.

“He looks to be a man with depth of feeling,” Zevran said. “Also quite attractive.”

“He kept coming back for Alistair’s strudel, and now that he’s seen you, you too. Soon he’ll forget all about me,” Anders tried to joke, but it was true that most people found Zevran attractive. Anders had once been considered good-looking as well, but the fire had aged him as well as taken his sight. He knew he looked older and more worn than he really was.

“Nonsense,” Zevran said, with confidence. “He was looking for you when I went.”

Anders smiled a small sad smile to himself, but didn’t turn towards Zevran. His friends would tell him anything to make him feel better.

At least the bakery was quiet that afternoon. The peaceful sound of rain continued. Anders sat on the back step for a while to take a break. He heard Alistair and Zevran talking in low voices inside, but didn’t try to listen to what they were saying. He didn’t really care to know.

Anders had just closed his eyes and was resting his cheek in his hand when he heard an exclamation from inside and Alistair urging Zevran: “go get Anders!” Anders stood up with a sigh. What now?

He trudged inside, nearly colliding with Zevran, who yelped and grabbed at Anders’ arm to stop himself.

“Quick, Anders, come see.” He pulled Anders towards the front of the bakery. Anders groaned. Did Alistair  _ finally  _ manage to stack 13 cupcakes on top of one another?

“Alistair, I swear if this is what I think then-” His feet stopped moving when he heard a familiar meow. A  _ pathetic _ meow.

“Pounce?” He rushed forward, his palms colliding with the countertop beside the register.

Quiet feet approached him, and the mewing continued.

“Who are you?” Anders asked, reaching desperately for his cat. “Thank you so much. How did you know he was mine? Oh thank you, thank you!”

“You seemed unhappy.”

That was Fenris’ voice. Anders clutched at Pounce, but didn’t pull him towards himself. Fenris was still holding the cat. Pounce was soaking wet, and Anders guessed that Fenris was as well.

“You’ve been out there all this time?” Anders asked a little breathless.

In answer, Fenris held out Pounce and Anders finally took the cat into his arms. Pounce dug in his claws, clinging to Anders’ shoulder, but started purring as Anders hugged him close.

“Please, allow me thank you properly,” Anders said quickly before Fenris could leave. Giddy at having his cat back and Fenris’ concern for him he gave little thought to the idea before blurting it out: “Will you go get coffee with me later this week?” 

Fenris didn’t speak, and Anders’ fingers tightened in Pounce’s wet fur. He was about to open his mouth and apologize for being so presumptuous, to just thank him and retreat to the kitchen to scold himself for being so rash, when Fenris spoke again.

“Yes,” Fenris said softly.

“Friday?” Anders said, leaning forward eagerly. Butterflies were having a rave in his belly. “Around 5?”

“Shall I meet you here?”

“Yes!” Anders replied breathlessly. “Yes, I’ll be here. I-I-” He swallowed painfully. Why was he so nervous? He’d done all of this before with Karl. Even if that was years and years ago. “Thank you,” he said.

He heard a small  _ mm-hmm  _ from Fenris, which he took to be an acknowledgment and a way of telling him he would be leaving now.

“So Friday?” He called after Fenris, maybe a bit eagerly, and heard a small chuckle from right in front of him. Fenris hadn’t left yet.

“Friday,” Fenris confirmed, and  _ then _ Anders heard his wet footsteps and the faint sound of water dripping as Fenris left the bakery. Pounce wriggled to remind Anders that he needed to take care of his cat, and Anders hurried to take Pounce upstairs to his rooms. Alistair and Zevran would be fine without him. Anders was too giddy to work any longer anyway. 

If only Friday didn’t feel so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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